


Cold, Sharp, Beautiful

by PalavaRakkaus



Series: All Dressed Up [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Gauntlet Kink, I have never touched the source material, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:15:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25049020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PalavaRakkaus/pseuds/PalavaRakkaus
Summary: Anders likes Fenris's gauntlets. He really, really likes them.
Relationships: Anders/Fenris (Dragon Age)
Series: All Dressed Up [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921975
Comments: 6
Kudos: 62





	Cold, Sharp, Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> ~~And I will leave my gauntlets on.~~

"I could hurt you," Fenris says.

It's not meant to be a threat, or a promise, but it sends a delicious little thrill down Anders' spine.

"I'm not worried."

He knows he sounds too flippant, and the disapproving look Fenris throws him confirms that.

"You should be. You have the survival instinct of a slice of bread."

Anders could let that offend him, but being offended wouldn't get him what he wants. He takes a step closer and places his hands on Fenris's hips.

"Please," he says in a tone he knows Fenris has trouble resisting. "It'll be good, I promise. You're so careful, you'll never do anything too serious."

He has to resist the urge to point out that he is a healer and can take care of any injury Fenris might cause. _You can fuck me up because I can fix all the damage_ is not an argument Fenris takes well.

"You are impossible."

Which is Fenris-speak for _yes_. Anders grins and leans down to press his mouth on Fenris's.

"Thank you," he murmurs against the elf's lips. "You won't regret this."

The metal of Fenris's gauntlet is smooth and very cold against Anders' skin. He takes a deep breath, and the scent of steel and leather fills his nose. As much as he's yearned for this, it is a little frightening. Fenris doesn't need his gauntlets to be able hurt him—not that he ever would—but they are sharp and dangerous. One wrong move, one twitch of his hand could leave Anders bleeding.

That won't make him change his mind now, of course.

Aside from the gauntlets Fenris is naked, all smooth brown skin and lean muscle emphasised by familiar pale lines of lyrium. He looks like a dream as he kneels on the bed next to Anders, leaning over him, and Anders may want him more than ever before. He hasn't realised that was possible.

"Are you scared?" Fenris asks. His voice is low and gentle, his touch almost painfully careful as he cups Anders' jaw.

"I don't know," Anders admits. "Maybe. In a good way. I trust you."

"I know you do." Fenris strokes a metal-covered thumb across Anders' cheek. "Too much, perhaps."

Anders would protest—he knows Fenris is worth his trust, always—but before he can, the elf has leant down and pressed their mouths together. The kiss is slower, sweeter than Anders has expected, and he lets Fenris have his mouth. Fenris's breath is warm across his cheek, and his eyes are still open when Anders closes his own.

As they kiss, one of Fenris's hands slips up to Anders' hair and grips a fistful, tilting his head further back, and the other slides down to rest on his throat. There's barely any pressure, but the weight of his palm alone sends a shiver through Anders. He makes a sound into their kiss and clings to Fenris's waist as his cock begins to harden.

When Fenris's lips leave his, Anders lets out a little whine that'd embarrass him if anyone else but Fenris heard it, and opens his eyes. Fenris is looking at him, both fondness and hunger in his gaze, and then the elf seals their lips together again. This kiss is more intense, more demanding, and Anders kisses back with equal passion. The hand on his throat travels lower, to his chest, and Maker, the gauntlet is _cold_ on his skin. Anders trembles, and Fenris's mouth curves into a faint smile against his before the elf pulls back from the kiss.

The hand in his hair tightens for a moment, then eases its hold, smooths down the tangled strands, and moves to his chest to join the other. Cold fingertips circle around his nipple before, without a warning, sliding right over it. Anders gasps, and gasps again as Fenris repeats the action. A delighted look on his face, Fenris takes the nipple between the sharp tips and pinches, and Anders moans and arches up from the bed.

Fenris glances down, where Anders' cock is hard as steel.

"You do like this."

" _Obviously_ ," Anders says. His voice isn't quite as steady as he's hoped. "That's why I— _oh_."

His words are cut off when Fenris's other hand gives a pinch to his previously ignored nipple, the pain sharp and perfect as if flashes through him. Anders writhes on the bed, and then cries out as Fenris suddenly leans down and covers one nipple with his mouth while the other is still being touched by the gauntleted fingers. Compared to the coldness of the metal, the heat of his tongue almost burns as he licks over the sensitive flesh.

Anders whines a little when Fenris's mouth leaves his skin, and Fenris soothes him with a quick peck on the lips. The elf's hands trail lover, down Anders' sides and over his hips. Anders spreads his legs without prompting, and the grip of Fenris's hand tightens, sharp claws pressing into his skin as the elf shifts to kneel between his thighs.

"You look lovely," Fenris says as his hands travel up and down Anders' legs. "All flushed and so aroused already, just because I'm touching you."

"That's—" Anders swallows, clears his throat. "That's nothing new."

The corner of Fenris's mouth twitches with amusement. His hands keep moving on Anders' skin, up and down. The prickle of the claw-tips leaves a trail of goose bumps on its wake. Fenris traces imaginary patterns to the sensitive flesh on inside of his thigh, lets the claws dig in just a little, just enough. Anders swallows, throat tight, and Fenris's hands go higher, whisper over the junction of his hip and thigh, almost tickling. Breathless, Anders watches, can't take his eyes off those gauntlets.

The claw-tips move to comb through the coarse hair around his cock, and Anders shudders, with arousal or with fear, he's not sure.

" _Please_ ," he whispers.

Fenris glances up, meets his eyes. For a moment, they look at each other, Fenris's green gaze intent as it focuses on him.

Anders is so caught up in Fenris's eyes that he doesn't notice the shift the elf's hand before it's suddenly touching his cock. Fenris trails the pads of metal-covered fingers up the shaft, and a helpless little noise escapes Anders' throat. The gauntlets feel even colder there, and far more dangerous, and he's so turned on it hurts. His cock is leaking, and when Fenris swipes one finger across the wet head, it twitches eagerly.

He should not want this as much as he does, he's sure of it.

"I could hurt you," Fenris says, just like he said when Anders first brought this up, and Anders makes a sound he's never heard from his own lips, high-pitched and needy.

The look Fenris gives him is far too smug for someone who was originally against trying this, but Anders doesn't have enough air in his lungs to point that out. He can only watch as Fenris's beautiful, dangerous fingers dance on his cock, the sharp tips brushing his straining flesh, and dear Maker, he could almost come like this.

It's so much better than he's imagined.

Fenris's hand forms a loose fist around the base of his cock, both warm skin and cold metal touching him, and Anders freezes. His body burns with the urge to thrust into Fenris's grip but he holds himself unmoving, too aware of all the sharp edges only a hair's breadth away from his skin.

With a tiny smile on his lips, Fenris leans down and kisses the head of his cock, tongue licking around it. Anders is tense, body yearning to push past those soft lips and into the glorious wetness of Fenris's mouth. The grip of the elf's fingers tightens around him, like a threat, and then his lips leave Anders' cock and his hand lets go and dances lower.

"Fenris," Anders gasps, lifting his knees a little as Fenris cups his balls with one hand, palm warm and the gauntlet way too cold.

Fenris gives him a little squeeze, not hard enough to hurt, and his other hand goes lower, sharp, sharp metal tracing over his taint and circling around his hole, and it's more than Anders can take. He has to have Fenris inside him _now_.

"Andraste's—fuck, Fenris," he chokes out. "Just fuck me. Fuck me, please."

The dangerous tip of his finger circles Anders' hole again. "I think I want to see your fingers inside you first."

Anders swallows, throat tight, and with an unsteady hand, picks up the bottle of oil he's left waiting on the bed earlier. He opens the bottle and slicks his fingers, a few drops of oil spilling onto his belly. Holding his breath, he reaches down between his legs and, without preamble, pushes a finger in. Fenris is watching him, hands on his thighs, eyes fixed on his face, and he wonders how he must look, cheeks flushed, mouth hanging open, sweat beading on his forehead. His arse is so tight around his finger, and he curls it, searches and finds the place that makes him quiver as he touches it.

"You are so good," Fenris tells him, voice low and delicious.

The elf's gaze slides down, focuses on where Anders is fucking himself, and Anders forces the finger in deeper, harder. He wants to give Fenris a show, but he's too desperate and his hand can't find a proper rhythm as he moves it.

"Another, I think," Fenris says, and Anders obeys, pulls his finger out and pushes back in with two.

It's better like this. Two fingers spread him open wider, fill him in the way he's been craving for, and soon, he's gasping as he thrusts into his arse. Fenris's eyes are full of undeniable desire as they travel up and down between his face and where he's fucking himself.

He gasps as gauntleted hands settle on his skin again, dance down his sides. The coldness of the metal shouldn't shock him anymore, but somehow, it still does. One hand stops to rest on his belly, palm flat, and the other moves between his legs, sharp claws touching the back of his hand. Anders freezes.

"Fuck, Fenris…"

"Keep doing that." The hand on his strokes his skin, gently. "Feels good, doesn't it?"

He swallows and nods, begins to move his fingers again, hard, near-desperate shoves into his own body, curling them when he finds the good spot. Fenris watches for a while, gauntlet cold on his skin, before the elf takes a hold of his hand, and Anders gives up control and lets Fenris guide his thrusts. His body is aching, clenching around his fingers as Fenris forces them in deep and doesn't let him pull out. Anders squirms, but Fenris holds his hand in an iron grip, keeps him full.

It's too much.

"Fuck me, please," he begs, his arse throbbing with the need to have Fenris inside.

Fenris looks at him, makes him wait, and then lets go of him. "All right." The elf nods towards the bottle of oil. "If you wouldn't mind…"

Anders pulls his fingers out of himself, catches the oil bottle and pours some on his palm. It's cool, and Fenris hisses as Anders wraps a slick hand around his steel-hard cock. A part of Anders is tempted to tease, stroke Fenris until the elf is shaking and desperate, but his own desire to be fucked is too much; he spreads the oil over Fenris's cock with a few quick movements and looks up.

"In me," he says. " _Now_."

Fenris doesn't argue. His gauntleted hand takes a hold of Anders' thigh, forces it up towards his chest, lifting his arse of the bed. Anders wraps his other leg around Fenris's waist and with one hand, guides the elf's cock to his waiting entrance.

Slowly, slowly, Fenris fills him, and Anders pants. Fenris's cock is so hot, almost burning, and it seems to take ages before he's fully inside Anders' arse.

The elf doesn't give Anders much time to adjust before he pulls back until only the tip of his cock is inside, and rams in. Anders cries out, the rush of feeling so sudden and unexpected, and for a while, he knows nothing but the cock inside him, moving relentlessly. The gauntleted hands are on him, one of them gripping his thigh, the other on his hip, but he can't feel them.

Fenris fucks him exactly the way he needs, each thrust into him forceful and perfect. Anders clings to the elf's waist, pulls him closer, and Fenris releases his thigh in favour of gripping both of his hips. Anders wraps his freed leg around Fenris's waist too, ankles crossed behind the elf's back.

He has to bite his lip to keep from crying out each time Fenris's cock shoves in deep, and Fenris lifts a hand to cup his jaw, a metal-covered thumb prying his lower lip free from his teeth. Anders can't help but to let his tongue dart out, licking the unforgivable steel, and Fenris gasps, eyes wide and ravenous.

His hand returns to Anders' waist and his next thrust is even harder, and this time, Anders does cry out. The claw-tips of the gauntlets are digging into his hips, on the edge of breaking the skin, painfully good. For a hazy moment, he wants them to pierce his flesh, sink into him like Fenris's cock is sinking into his arse, mark him and leave ten little scars he could carry with pride.

Fenris looks wild above him, his hair a mess, a few strands sticking to his forehead with sweat. His eyes stay focused on Anders, and he bends down, brings their mouths together. Anders parts his lips, invites Fenris's tongue in with his own.

"Touch yourself," Fenris tells him, mouth brushing his, and Anders does.

The precome leaking from him makes the slide of his hand smooth and easy, and he times his strokes with the plunges of Fenris's cock into his arse. Pleasure burns inside him, coiling tighter, and he's making constant noises now, gasps and keens that only spur Fenris on.

One of Fenris's hands leaves his hip and wraps around his on his cock, cold smooth metal and the warm, calloused roughness of his palm against the back of Anders' hand, and Anders loses his breath again. He's right there, right on the edge, and he looks down between their bodies, sees Fenris's beautiful, dangerous gauntleted hand around him, and that's what does it.

He comes with a shout, body arching off the bed, come spilling over his and Fenris's fingers, over his own belly, over the cold metal of the gauntlet. It's more intense than any orgasm he's ever experienced, and it lasts forever, leaves him gasping and wrung out, floating, weightless.

Coming down takes what may be a long while. When he opens his eyes, Fenris is still above him, still inside, looking at him, lovely gauntleted hands caressing his sides.

"Come in me," Anders tells him, voice hoarse. "I want that."

Fenris doesn't ask if he's sure; he grips Anders' waist with both hands again and begins to move. The thrusts are vicious, and even after his own orgasm, they send sparks of aching pleasure though Anders.

His eyes don't leave Anders for a moment even as he comes, hips jerking, back curving, mouth open in a soundless gasp. Anders strokes his sides and watches him until he stills, his chest heaving, breaths audible in the silent room.

Fenris stays inside him for a while, cock slowly softening. His gauntleted hand pets Anders' hip. The metal is body-warm now.

With a low sigh, Fenris looks down and pulls out of him, and Anders can feel a trickle of come slipping out. The look on Fenris's face is both hungry and satisfied as he watches it, and Anders smiles.

It's always more than worth it to let Fenris come inside him.

"How are you feeling?" Fenris asks, looking up at him.

"Great," Anders tells him. "That was…" He fails to come up with a word adequately describing the experience.

Fenris hums, a soft, pleased sound, and bends down to give him a kiss. "Indeed."

He removes the gauntlets, his movements efficient at the familiar task. One of them is smeared with Anders' come, and Fenris makes a face at it. As Anders watches, the elf slips out of the bed and picks up a piece of soft cloth, wipes the metal clean.

That's the moment Anders realises he'll never be able to look at the gauntlets without remembering this, which, he admits to himself, may make things a little awkward in the future. Still, it's been more than worth it.

"No regrets?" he asks as Fenris sets both gauntlets down and returns to the bed.

"No," Fenris admits, and considering the content look on his face, it's not surprising at all.

"Hmm. You should take my word more often," Anders says.

Fenris doesn't disagree, just lies down beside him and pulls him close and into a warm, slow kiss. The elf's hand combs through his hair, and Anders is very aware his fingers are bare now, with no metal covering them anymore.

"We could do this again, sometime," Anders suggests when Fenris pulls back a fraction.

Fenris's mouth curves into a smile, and the hand in Anders' hair stops to cradle the back of his head. "I would not mind. But perhaps next time, I shall choose what _you_ should wear."

The wicked little glint in his eyes is very promising.

"I'm looking forward to it," Anders says.


End file.
